


Snapshots of Time XIX

by hummerhouse



Series: Snapshots of Time [19]
Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2003)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-03 04:57:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14561364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hummerhouse/pseuds/hummerhouse
Summary: Disclaimer: The TMNT are not mine. No money being made.Word Count: 2,713 OT4 TCest Drabble sets 2k3Rated: PG-13 no pairings this setMomentary glimpses of life, captured and placed into an album.!!~~Winnerin the TMNT Universal Reader’s Choice Awards 2018: (Mature Ballot) Most Stunning One Shot/Drabbles 1st Place~~!!





	Snapshots of Time XIX

** Oops, My Bad **

            “Unbelievable!”

            The tone of his brother’s voice made Raphael pause on his way into the kitchen.  Whatever had happened now had either aggravated the genius or pissed him off.  If it was the latter, anyone within range was going to take the full brunt of it.

            Raph shrugged.  He might as well fall victim and get it over with.  That was a much better option than waiting for the nuclear warhead to explode later.

            He could hear Don muttering under his breath as he entered the kitchen.  His brother had the oven door open and was pushing at something on the lower right hand side.

            “’Sup Donny,” Raph called out in what he hoped was a nice, neutral tone.

            Donatello spun on him, his face twisted in barely repressed fury.  “How many times have I asked you and Mikey not to yank the oven door open and then slam it closed?”

            Raph took a step back, his hand raised in a placating gesture.  “Whoa there, bro’.  If something’s broke, don’t blame it on me.  Ain’t been near the oven in a week.”

            “The hinge snapped out of place,” Don barked, pointing at the offending item.  It was clear Raph’s denial wasn’t getting him off the hook.  “The door won’t shut properly, it’s crooked, and someone just walked off and left it like that!”

            There was a dangerous light in Don’s very expressive brown eyes.  Raph thought fleetingly about simply backing out of the room without another word, but his brother had just bitched about someone doing that same thing.

            Option two was to offer a solution.  “Let me fix it,” Raph said.  “Ya’ got enough on your plate.”

            “You’re damn right I do,” Don said.

           If Raph hadn’t already known how mad Donny was, the curse word would have told him.

           Don continued speaking as his rage dialed back a little.  “I’ll get some tools.  You’ll need a chisel and hammer to pop the hinge back in.”

           “No worries, I got this,” Raph assured him.

           He watched as Don stormed out of the kitchen, then sauntered over to look at the hinge in question.  Just as Don had said, the two metal plates were out of alignment.

           Raph hadn’t really thought about what he was doing to the door whenever he wrenched it open.  He assumed they were built to take that sort of abuse.  Maybe they could, when they were brand new, but this oven was cobbled together from a lot of different parts.  By Donny.

           As he stared at the hinge, Raph realized it probably wouldn’t take much effort to re-align the two plates.  He could certainly fix it before Don got back.  That would be a nice surprise for his brother and hopefully set him back on the road to good humor.

           Lifting the door, Raph closed it fully and stepped back.  Sure enough, the door was crooked and wouldn’t make a tight seal.  One edge was higher than the other, so if he pushed down hard enough, he was sure he could snap the hinges back into place.

           Setting his hands firmly on the long bar that formed the door handle, Raph pushed down.  When nothing happened, he decided to put a bit more muscle into it.

           Bracing himself, Raph shoved downwards with all his might.  Unfortunately, the handle ripped loose, along with two large sections of the oven door.

           An indignant squeak from behind him turned Raph around.  In the kitchen doorway stood Donatello, mouth hanging open and his face an unholy shade of purple that nearly matched his mask.

           “What . . . you . . . you . . . .” Don spluttered, staring wide eyed at the thoroughly broken oven door.

           “Now Donny, before ya’ blow up, I just wanna say in my defense that I was only trying to help,” Raph said.

           “I’m going to kill you and stuff your dead body into the oven!” Don shouted, brandishing the chisel and hammer as he dove at his brother.

           Raphael didn’t believe in running from an enemy.  But he sure as shell knew when to run away from Donatello.

 

** Hard Head **

            “Do you know what you’re doing?” April asked.

            “Sure, no sweat, ba . . . April,” Casey said, remembering just in time not to call her babe.  “Just gotta pry a few boards loose and hammer in the replacements.”

            April eyed her boyfriend worriedly.  He was atop a ladder in the barn at his grandmother’s farm in Northampton.  This was supposed to be a restful vacation trip, but Casey had noticed several rotting beams in the old barn and had decided to replace them.

            Why he chose to do the job by himself was a mystery.

            “Couldn’t you wait until Don gets back from the hike with his brothers?” April asked.  “The job would go faster with some help.”

            “I’ve got help,” Casey said.  “You’re here.”

            It was clear that it would be pointless to argue further.  April closed her mouth, but thought to herself, _“Don’t know how much help I’ll be if you won’t listen to me.”_

            “This hammer ain’t cutting it on these lag screws,” Casey said, wiping the sweat from his forehead onto the sleeve of his shirt.  “Hand me the crowbar.”

            With a sense of foreboding, April passed the crowbar up to him and accepted the hammer in exchange.  She watched as he wedged the metal rod in between two four by fours, keeping one hand firmly on a post to brace himself as he pried at the screws.

            Growling in frustration, Casey turned on the ladder step so that he was fully facing the recalcitrant beams.  Taking the crowbar into both hands, he began yanking down on it.

            “Casey, maybe that’s not such a good . . . .” April began.

            A high pitched screech warned that the boards were separating.  Then they suddenly popped loose and the crowbar, no longer braced, snapped back and cracked Casey right in the center of his forehead.

            “Ow!” Casey shouted, dropping the crowbar and slapping a hand to his forehead.

            Time froze for a millisecond with Casey teetering on the ladder.  April grabbed onto it so his weight wouldn’t send it toppling, but it was Casey who fell.

            April did not try to catch him.  He was too big and they both would have hit the ground.  Fortunately she’d had the foresight to spread a layer of hay under his work area and he landed on that.

            “Casey, Casey!” April exclaimed, rushing over to squat down next to him.  “Are you okay?”

            He looked up, his hand still pressed to his forehead.  Casey’s pupils danced in their sockets for a moment before finally focusing on April.

            “Yeah, I’m fine,” Casey told her sheepishly.  “Ain’t nothing hurt but my pride.”

            “Let me see,” April said, pulling at his wrist until he removed his hand.

            The skin on his forehead wasn’t broken, but a good sized lump had already formed.

            “Are my brains spilling out?” Casey asked, only half-jokingly.

            “No, but that’s only because you haven’t any,” April said, aggravated.  “Where is your common sense, Casey Jones?”

            “I got it loose didn’t I?” Casey said as he started to get up.

            April pressed down on his shoulders.  “You don’t move mister.  I’m going to get some ice for that lump on your head.”

            “I’ve had worse than this fighting Purple Dragons,” Casey said.

            “Don’t argue with me,” April said, standing up.  “You’ve probably given yourself a concussion.  A monthly occurrence for you it seems.”

            Casey watched as she marched out of the barn.  When she got back she’d probably tell him again to wait for the turtles.  Well, he’d been doing repairs around the farm long before he’d met those little green dudes, there was no reason he couldn’t keep doing them on his own.

            Rising slowly, Casey waited for the room to stop spinning and then retrieved his reciprocating saw.  After plugging it in, he climbed back up the ladder to remove the offending section of wood.

            April reentered the barn with an ice pack to find Casey back atop the ladder, his sawzall buzzing away.  The sound of the device was loud, especially in the barn where the noise echoed off the walls, so he probably wouldn’t hear her yell at him.

            With a frustrated sigh, April walked over to the ladder, intending to brace it for him so that he wouldn’t take another fall.  That’s when she noticed that he was cutting a section of wood at an angle, and that the saw blade was moving towards the hand he was using to support the beam.

            Just as she opened her mouth to shout a warning, the sawzall slipped and sliced right into the webbing between Casey’s index finger and thumb.

            “Shit!” Casey yelped, releasing the tool and grabbing his hand.

            “Get down before you fall down!” April shrieked.

            Casey climbed down a couple of steps and then jumped the rest of the way to the ground.  He immediately sat on the hay and April grabbed a nearby shop towel before kneeling next to him.

            “Let me see,” April insisted, taking hold of his wrist and pulling his hand towards her.

            Fortunately, Casey’s reflexes had been quick and the cut wasn’t deep.  It bled a lot though, so April swiftly wrapped the towel around the injury and applied pressure.

            After a couple of minutes April’s adrenaline began to recede and she felt calmer.  Staring critically at her boyfriend, she asked sarcastically, “So, are you ready to wait for some assistance now Mr. Hard Head?”

            “I have seen the error of my ways,” Casey replied with a hangdog look.

            “Good,” April said, dropping the ice pack into his uninjured hand.

            Casey pressed it to his forehead and kept his mouth firmly shut.  At this juncture, it was best to let April have the last word.

 

** Stubborn **

            It had been a bad flu season, not just for the human population, but for the small mutant family as well.

            They had all had a bout of flu, even Master Splinter, except for Raphael.  For a while there it looked as though he was going to escape unscathed.  After all, everyone else who’d had it were now well and no longer contagious.

            Raph gloated about that for three days before the flu slammed him down hard.  It was almost as though it was teaching him a lesson for being so arrogant.

            While Raph was sick, the remainder of the family gave the lair a thorough disinfecting.  None of them wanted another round with this particular strain of the bug.  It was even kicking Raph’s butt, making him want to do nothing but sleep whenever he wasn’t hugging the toilet.

            He was finally starting to feel like himself again after a full week of battling the flu.  Food still didn’t interest him and the only reason he drank anything at all was because his brothers pestered him ceaselessly.  Raph’s stomach was completely disinterested in receiving shipments and he was in no mood to argue with it.

            Tired of staring at the walls of his room, Raph had relocated to the couch.  Bored by what was on television, his attention wandered and he noticed his brothers were heading for the tunnel exit.

            “Where are ya’ guys going?” Raph asked.

            “Just for a short patrol,” Leonardo said.  “We won’t be long.”

            “Yeah, the Purple Dragons need to be reminded that we’re still around,” Michelangelo said, followed by an _oof_ as Donatello elbowed him in the chest.

            The warning was too late.  “I’m coming with ya’,” Raph announced as he got up from the couch.

            “That’s not such a good idea,” Leo said.  “You’re still sick.”

            “You really don’t need to be out in the night air right now,” Don said, backing him up.

            “Forget it,” Raph said.  “I’m fed up with being inside.  I need to hit someone and if it ain’t a Purple Dragon, it’s gonna be one of you guys.”

            He stared pointedly at Leo.  There was no use arguing with him; if they left without Raph he’d just follow them.

            “All right, but we’re only going to the surface for a short time and then coming right back,” Leo said.

            “And you’re going to take it easy,” Don added.

            “Whatever ya’ say,” Raph replied in an unctuous tone.

            The brothers left the lair and were soon topside.  It was cool out, the air crisp, and it felt good to stretch their muscles.  Choosing a route that wouldn’t take them far from home, the turtles ran across rooftops, keeping an eye out for gang activity but not really focused on searching for any.

            After about twenty minutes Raph started to lag.  Don noticed immediately and slowed down as well so he could run alongside his brother.

            “Want to stop for a bit?” Don asked in a low voice.

            Raph hated to admit to any sort of weakness, but he was having a hard time catching his breath.  “Maybe just walk for a few,” he said.  “At least until I get my sea legs back.”

            Leo and Mikey had stopped on the rooftop across from them and were watching their progress.

            “You don’t have to try and do everything all at once,” Don said, sounding worried.  “The flu drained a lot more than your energy.  You haven’t any fuel reserves and are dehydrated to boot.”

            “I ain’t no weakling Donny,” Raph said, appearing irritated.  He took in a lungful of air and then exhaled noisily.  “Let’s go before Mikey starts jabbering or Leo starts lecturing.”

            Don shook his head, staring at Raph’s shell as his brother raced off and leaped over to join Leo and Mikey.  Why Raph had to be so obstinate was beyond even Don’s reasoning.

            It wasn’t long before they could all hear Raph’s wheezing.  Mikey opened his mouth, no doubt ready to tease his brother, but a stern look from Leo kept the words from coming out.

            Stopping next to a picnic table atop an apartment building, Leo said, “This looks like a good place to do some star gazing.”

            He sat down on the table before glancing at Mikey.

            “Huh?”  Mikey looked perplexed and then caught on.  “Oh yeah, been wanting to look at some of those constellations.”

            “Screw that,” Raph said.  “What are ya’ gonna see over this city other than light pollution?  We came up here to patrol so let’s patrol.”

            He started off, ignoring his brother’s protests.  Raph made it about eight feet before he suddenly collapsed.

            There was absolutely no warning.  One second he was walking, the next he just keeled over.

            “Raph!” Leo shouted, racing to his brother’s side.

            Somehow as he fell, Raph managed to twist just enough so he didn’t hit face first on the asphalt.  Still, his temple bounced off the ground like a basketball and there was a growing lump beneath his mask.

            Leo rolled his brother over and lifted his head, cushioning it against his thigh as Don felt for Raph’s pulse.

            “Weak but steady,” Don said, lightly touching the bump on Raph’s temple.

            The probing finger stung Raph back to consciousness and he blinked blearily to see all three of his brothers hovering above him.

            “What happened?” Raph asked.

            “You passed out,” Don answered.  “Would you like to guess why?”

            If the genius’ expression wasn’t enough to relay how peeved he was, the sarcasm did.  That and the aggravation coming off of Leo in waves was enough to cause Raph to struggle up to a seated position.

            “You okay bro’?” Mikey asked.

            Raph chuckled awkwardly, trying to dispel his brother’s concern and annoyance.  “Guess I should take another couple days to refuel,” he said.  “Don’t look like running on empty agrees with me.”

            “No kidding,” Leo said as he helped Raph to his feet.  “You’re going to lean on me until we get you home.”

            “I can . . . .” Raph began.

            “Stop being such a stubborn jackass,” Leo said, though there was a touch of tenderness in his words.  “You really are impossible.”

            “Takes one to know one,” Raph said, secretly glad for the support.

            Someday he might actually learn to listen to them before he did something foolish.

            Or maybe not.


End file.
